I wasn’t going to let the day conquer me before it ever even began. I told myself not to get in a panic and just try to start the day as productively as I could. Maybe I had been too quick to dismiss pottery and just needed to get back into it in order to be fulfilled by it.

I dressed in a pair of the jean jumpsuits I had purchased when I first got into it, tied my hair up, and headed into the craft room.

Putting in some headphones, I threw myself into the task. I thought back to Lori’s suggestion that I could maybe be in charge of some décor for them. If they were going to start wanting stuff in the next year, I needed to get better. It still was only an idea, but at least it was a goal for the mean time.

I pulled up Pinterest and looked at all sort of pottery décor, trying to get an idea. Getting the feeling vases would be a good place to start, I looked at least a hundred of them before I put my phone away and got started.

It was only a matter of an hour before I was growing increasingly frustrated. The vase I was trying to form wasn’t turning out anything like I wanted it to. It looked more like a massive, tall bowl than something you could put flowers in. I smashed it back down into a blob and tried again.

By the time lunch was rolling around, I had nothing to show for the morning other than my jumpsuit being splattered with the wet pottery. Getting out of the room, I felt like I could breathe. I told myself I would just decompress and try again. Even if pottery wasn’t my true passion, at least it was a goal to work on. That was better than sitting bored in front of a television.

I wasn’t really even hungry when I moved down to the kitchen and opted just to have a glass of juice and some fruit.

I checked my phone and texted Roman back, who had messaged to warn me he would be in meetings for the rest of the afternoon. I sighed, knowing he wouldn’t even be a distraction.

I pondered how housewives filled their day, but I guessed they had children to look after, and I didn’t even want to think about starting that path in my life. I was nowhere near ready for that, and I didn’t think Roman was either. Besides, children shouldn’t be brought into the world just to cure my boredom.

When I started to head back to the craft room, I realized I hadn’t even so much as caught a glimpse at Kristen in a while. It hadn’t been just days, but it had been a couple of weeks.

I headed down the hall and knocked on her door. I stood there for a minute before knocking again, but she still didn’t come to the door. I guess she wasn’t home.

What if she had moved out and had skipped the goodbyes? I didn’t put it out of the realm of possibilities, figuring that Kristen wouldn’t be one for goodbyes. If that was the case, I hope she came back around occasionally so that we could at least have some piece of mind that she was okay.

However, if she was in there, what was she doing? Had she found a job?

A pang of worry resounded in my chest, but I tried my best not to think on it.

Getting back to pottery, I managed to make a couple of vases, none of which I was happy with, but at least there was something to have out of the day. When I sat them to the side, I made a couple of jewelry trays, my thought being to gift them to Lori and Lauren. However, as I looked down at them, they could have been ash trays or little pot plates for a garden.

I smashed them back down and abandoned the station. I didn’t want to embarrass myself by giving them something so childish and poorly made. I carried the vases down to the kiln and set a timer before heading back upstairs.

I started the only thing that I could think to do, paint. I wasn’t good at it, but it was still new enough for me not to be frustrated by my lack of skill and was still a good outlet. Without having a good place to start, I just went through the colors until one spoke to me. That day, I was feeling purple.

In the same ritual as I had with the fish painting. I attacked the canvas with swirls and splatters of different hues. I worked in some dark blues and medium green. The music thumping in my ears helped me get lost in the task, and time slipped by. When I stood back and looked at the mess of colors I created, the only thing I could see in it was a night sky. Taking a wet brush, I blended the paint on the canvas together until they became one.

Then, I took pale yellows and blues and white and dotted the canvas with countless stars until some sort of misshaped galaxy took form.

While it dried, I used my phone to pull up some art references. I liked these solid black doodles I found that were swirly forms of women and flowers. I made my best attempt to make my own, using the stars as a sort of constellations. I drew the top half of a woman with her eyelids closed and a small, dainty flower in her hands.

I stood back and looked at it. I thought it looked a bit better than the fish, but it still wasn’t great. However, looking at the time and realizing I had lost a few hours made me feel better. At least it was a way to pass the day and it was a pretty good outlet.

Still, I felt a bit hollow. I didn’t feel like I was benefiting anyone but myself, and it wasn’t a good feeling.

I wanted to give back. If I wasn’t making money for Roman and I, I needed to figure something out.

With a heavy mind, I headed downstairs and let Geoffrey know I was going to make dinner. I went through the fridge and eventually pulled out half of its contents onto the counter and looked at the spread to figure out what to make. I eventually decided on a seafood pasta and planned to try my hand at focaccia.

Following a recipe online, I left the focaccia dough to rise as I started on the pasta itself. I labored over the pasta dough, wanting to make it from scratch if for nothing but to kill time. Once they were flattened and cut into long strips, I set them to the side and started on the sauce.

As dinner began to come together, I knew that I needed to talk to Roman about how I was feeling. He was always so good at finding solutions, and maybe we could put our minds together to come up with something.

I set the table, substituting wine for non-alcoholic spritzers with fresh berries. I proudly cut the focaccia bread and placed it in a cloth-lined basket before putting the plates of pasta down.

"It smells heavenly in here," Roman called as he walked in the door.

"I take full credit," I smiled, peering up to see him coming into the dining room.

"You never cease to surprise me," Roman complimented as he glanced at the spread.

We sat down together and started the meal.

"How was work?" I asked him.

"It was busy. We are starting an acquisition over a real estate firm," he told me.

"I barely know what that means," I chuckled.

"There’s a big real estate company upstate that’s fallen on hard times, and so we’ve made an offer to purchase it. We’ll implement new management and take it over, and hopefully, revitalize it and make it profitable," he explained.

"Sounds like a gamble," I replied.

"It is, but not a big one. We have a division of the company that is just real estate. It’ll be a new project for them that they will manage with probable ease." He shrugged. "It’ll be a big start up cost, but in six months’ time, it should be profitable." I nodded in response, unsure of what to say. "How was your day?"

I shuffled and cleared my throat. "Boring," I stated bluntly. "I need help. I need to find something to make me feel useful. I feel like a bored, useless housewife. I don’t even clean—Geoffrey does that."

"Would you like me to fire him and get you your own apron?" he teased.

"Roman, I’m serious," I frowned.

We shared a look and he nodded and placed his silverware down. "Let’s talk about it, then."